Laundry
by Kaila.Nicole
Summary: She noticed he was leaning in closer to the dial, squinting his eyes to read the faded numbering. How on earth did he ever live by himself? The man couldn’t turn a simple washing machine on. Mete.
1. Disney World

**AN: This first part takes place in the middle of the first season, no specific part really. **

**Enjoy! **

"I don't believe this!"

"That you can't work a simple washing machine?" Myka stood next to Pete in the laundry room, folding her pajama bottoms as he struggled with the dial on the machine.

"Very funny. No, I cannot believe that you've never been to Disney World."

"What's wrong with never going to Disney World?" She perched her hand on one hip, the warm T-shirts in the drier forgotten now. Pete gaped at the woman before him, waving his hands frantically as if this would help prove his point. Myka found it quite entertaining.

"That's practically a curse against your childhood."

"What's part of 'I lived with an anti-fun Nazi' don't you understand?" She noticed he was leaning in closer to the dial, squinting his eyes to read the faded numbering. How on earth did he ever live by himself? The man couldn't turn a simple washing machine on. Temptation to show him how to work it filled her soft side, but the other side cackled in delight as Pete failed again. Sometimes Myka thought she was the owner of split personalities, but she could choose which one to show physically. It was a pain to keep in check, but at least it was better than having no control at all, though.

"But still, it's-"

"Disney World. I know," Myka glanced over at him knowingly and he swallowed whatever exclamation that was still awaiting verbalization. "It's not that big of a deal, anyway. What makes a giant castle and a life-size furry mascot so _awe-inspiring_ and _wondrous_, anyway?"

"It's Disney World!" Her wrists flicked the shirt a bit sharper than she normally would have, gaining Pete's attention- for the moment.

"Can we please drop this? We already had this argument-"

"-I'm not arguing with you, I'm just-"

"-And I need to go finish my-"

"-Work can wait, we've been working-"

"-Report and-"

"-How the fuck do you turn this thing on?!" Her partner finally burst out and slammed the palms of his hands against the metal lid. She actually found herself amazed such a thing would come out of his mouth. After all, this was hug-and-kisses-and-cookies Pete Lattimer we were talking about. Although, she'd only experienced two out of those three. The little voice in her head told her she wanted all three, but she declined this. Sometimes. "Oh, sorry, Myka, I didn't mean for-"

"Pete?"

"Yeah?" He muttered half-heartedly. A discouraged Pete wasn't Myka's favorite thing to see. Even though she found him incredibly bothersome when he was cheery and energetic, she would always prefer that over… this. Her hand reached out, slamming the knob in before twisting it to what used to say "large load" and now read "rg oa" from old age. Figures the Bed and Breakfast wouldn't have upgraded appliances.

"Make sure to separate your tighty-whities from your slacks."

"Hey! I do not wear-" Well, there went her attempt at humor. She knew she should leave the jokes and sarcastic comments to her partner.

"Pete?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget the detergent."

"_Michael was running as fast as he could, racing down thickly congested streets towards New York Hospital- Jane was dying there- when suddenly_-" A loud thumping sound awoke her from the reverie that was her book.

"And I was just getting to the good part," Myka muttered, frustrated, as she stuffed her bookmark between the pages and set the book aside. Without skipping a beat, Pete appeared in the doorway of the living room, his features enhanced by the light of the fire. Myka felt the breath hitch in her throat. For one, Pete was shirtless. For two, a pair of jeans lay limp in his hand, dripping water onto the hardwood floors.

"What did you do?"

"The machine decided to hate me today." Myka rose from her position on the couch to meet him, ripping the jeans out of his grasp.

"Are you sure it wasn't the other way around?"

"The only loathing I'm sensing is coming from you," He joked but knew by the look on her face to just step out of the way and let her lead. A picture of a German shepherd charging head-first at him popped into his mind, but he quickly pushed it away before he started chuckling. Laughing when Myka was in this state of mind wasn't the best idea.

He stood to the side, watching as she fiddled with the appliance.

"There. Fixed." She stated, turning on her heel to finish her book, which Pete had rudely interrupted, even though she had just started it, but still, the fact remained that-

"Can you toss these in?" She blew out a breath, eyeing him suspiciously. Did he want to be chewed out? Myka knew she could definitely dish it out, especially right now. However, she obliged and soon she was helping Peter Lattimer filling the washer with his clothes. Luckily, no reeking boxers or malodorous socks found their way into her hands. He tossed her a pair of jeans, which she turned inside-out to prevent the denim from fading, and prepared to dump them into the laundry soup until Pete called from the other side of the laundry room.

"Wait! Check the pockets. I think I left something in there." Her hand dug into the denim depths, fingers wiggling and searching for specific objects. She hoped to God he hadn't put any disgusting items in there as a joke- a list of such things ran across her mind. Condoms, rotten food-

"Tickets to Disney World?" Okay, definitely not what she had been expecting. Pete smiled sheepishly. The half-empty laundry basket remained the only thing between them, now. Myka felt something burst inside of her, and this time, she was positive it wasn't another nerve or a blood vessel. Perhaps it was her heart, something she hadn't felt react like this in quite a long time.

"If you don't want to go, I understand. I just wanted to take you on Space Mountain and-"

"Pete?"

"Myka?" She crossed the tiny room and wrapped her arms around him, the tickets still in her hand. He grinned widely, eager to start planning the trip, even though their hectic schedules probably wouldn't allow them to visit the theme park for another good month or so.

"Thank you." With that, she ran the pads of her fingers over the face of the tickets and exited the room. "Oh, Pete?" He turned from the machine to see her head poking around the side of the doorway.

"Hmm?"

"Don't forget the detergent."

**AN: Bonus points if you find out what book I quoted. I just pulled one randomly from my bookshelf, but still. You'll be giving a healthy donation to your subconscious with the knowledge that I'm sure is eating you up. Who doesn't want that?!**

**Anyway, I'm still struggling with these two. Myka is rigid and I want her to be a bit softer when I write her, but then Pete is a free spirit, at the same time being serious. Argh. It's a love/hate relationship with these characters. Ha, ha. Who can't wait for the second season?**

**There will be a sequel to this. **


	2. Sneakers

**AN: Here's the sequel! I hope you enjoy it. I'll have to change the genre from friendship to romance after this! This chapter occurs about… two years after the previous one. **

Her sneakers skidded along the pathway, her breath coming out in pants as she rounded the corner, heading back to the Bed and Breakfast. The air was cold, with a taste of winter in the air, although it was merely mid-October. Everything in South Dakota was gone- the trees, the grass, even the cute little deer she saw during her early morning jogs. Everything except Claudia, Pete, and her.

"Gotcha!" Myka shrieked, twisting in her captor's arms and almost roundhouse-kicking him across the face. Speak of the devil.

"Jesus, Pete!"

"Where?" Her boyfriend glanced around excitedly, which annoyed her even further. She wouldn't normally be so moody, as she had grown accustomed to Pete's liveliness, but since she'd started her period yesterday and there were no cookies in the house, she found herself a bit irritable. Okay, that was a lie. A _lot_ irritable. "All right, all right," He lifted his hands up in the normal surrender-stance, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have killed the mood." Myka chuckled softly as Pete jogged up to the steps of the Bed and Breakfast. "Come on. I'll repay you by baking some awesometastic cookies. You kind of look like you need some." She narrowed her eyes and Pete huffed as her palms fell to her hips- definitely his least favorite position to be in, to be the one being stared down with those menacing glares she packed behind otherwise striking caramel- brown eyes.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You look stressed. Is that a crime now?" She scoffed, glancing over the dried-up landscape before turning her eyes back to him. "Forget it. I know you need some time to be pissed-off. I'll be waiting in the living room when you've decided to come back down to Earth." He turned from her and her heart squeezed tight; reminding her that she couldn't be such a bitch to him. He didn't deserve it, after all.

"Pete?" The cold air seeped into her mouth as she bit down on her lip, hard. Damn her feelings and the overwhelming power they had over her brain.

"Hmm?"

"I- I'm sorry," She stepped closer, her sneaker scratching along the driveway and crunching the leaves underneath the soles. "I shouldn't have snapped at you." They stood apart from each other, bodies still and breathing steady. For what seemed like three eternities, they stared at one another. Something changed, then, Myka knew, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what had.

"You don't always have to be in control, Myka." He stepped off of the porch, moving slowly towards her.

"Oh, yes, I do." Her sneakers scraped back down the driveway.

"Why? Why are you so stubborn?"

"Because I have to look after you, Pete! I have to make sure you're not tampering with the crime scene or the evidence or causing mayhem or-"

"No, you don't."

"Of course I do. You're Pete- the carefree and happy one and I'm Myka, the-"

"-Woman who should just _let go_ sometimes. Go wild and crazy. Have a few drinks and not worry about what you're going to feel like in the morning." The sneakers stopped. A cold breeze captured the twisted locks of hair and began spitting them in her face. She didn't bother to push them away, though, because Pete's hand was already up, his knuckles brushing lightly against her pink frozen skin, warming her face instantly.

"Why are you smiling?" She inquired, one eyebrow perched high above her brown eye.

"I was just trying to imagine you partying," He grinned broadly, "I would never believe it unless I saw it with my own two eyes."

"Then there's a lot of things you don't know about me, Pete Lattimer," She mimicked his smile and moved closer to plant her lips upon his. Then the sneakers were moving again, racing up to the house, and she felt like she should be seventeen years-old, trying to sneak back into the house after a late date-night.

"Oh, before you grab a shower, could you put some of my jeans into the washer?" She rolled her eyes but obliged, wrapping her arms around one of the porch's posts while Pete faded away down the never-ending road in South Dakota on his jogging route. Shaking her head slightly, she found she couldn't wipe the smile off of her face, and listened to the sound of the screen door slapping behind her as she disappeared into the house.

\/

Pete was turning the last corner of his jog when a figure appeared on the edge of his vision. His sweaty palms burned with the cold and his lungs felt as if they had been doused in gasoline and set afire- and yet it still couldn't compare to the butterflies that were performing intricate, aerobatic moves in his stomach. He pushed harder, faster on the pavement and soon met her in the middle of the South Dakota roadway.

"Any particular reason you-" She silenced him by pulling out a faux suede-covered box.

"Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"What is this?"

"Looks pretty obvious to me." Myka sighed, popping open the box to reveal an empty core.

"Except there's no ring inside, honey."

"Oh, shoot! Did you lose it on the way down here?!" He could see the alarm on her face- her eyes widening and her lips falling open and shut, open and shut.

"No, Pete. There was no ring when I pulled it out of your jean pocket. Why do you need a ring anyway?"

"Let me see that," He plucked the box from her fingers and examined the interior, "Yeah. There was definitely a ring in here. Are you positive you didn't drop it?"

"Pete, there was no ring in that box when I-"

"Well, could you at least look around? Maybe it fell out when you stopped." He pleaded, using the eyes she could never resist and he received an agitated glare in return, but she did as he asked and began searching the surrounding area for the ring.

"Pete, I'm telling you I can't find that-" Her sneaker spun in the dirt on the pavement, twirling a cloud into the air, "-ring." Below her, on one knee, sat her boyfriend with a sparkling rose-cut diamond settled into a platinum band. "Oh, my God. Pete. Pete? Pete!" She squealed, turning around with her hand over her face to hide her smile.

"Uh… you know I can't exactly say my lines if you're not looking at me." He called from behind. She sucked in a breath and spun back around to face him.

"Okay. I'm done freaking out." He smirked, glad to see her reaction wasn't what Claudia had been convincing him it would be for the past three weeks.

"Myka Elise Bering, will you marry me?" She nodded, her throat too thick to verbalize her answer. He rose to meet her, but she dropped down to his level and pulled him into her arms.

"Yeah. I mean yes. Yes, I will," She stumbled over her words and soon stumbled over his sneakered-feet. The both of them ended up in a pile of sweaty limbs and kisses. Pete slipped the ring onto her left finger, satisfied when her face lit up even brighter. If he was any more of a romantic, he would have told her that she brightened his world as much as the ring brightened her. But he kept that inside, for just right now, because one: he couldn't feel his mouth because two: Myka wouldn't stop kissing him. He'd leave the romantics for later.

"Oh, I almost forgot to ask," She paused, looking at him expectantly for him to finish his statement, "Did you forget the detergent this time?" His answer was another kiss. While he wasn't complaining, he wasn't sure whether that meant yes or no.

He would worry about that later, though.

**AN: Ohhh. I love those two. Hope you liked this one! **


End file.
